Connected

I din't think of you,
I din't care at all.
I couldn't care less
if you were going to die the next minute.
My life, my future, my tomorrow did not depend on you.

But then you happened.
You happened like someone slapping me hard across the face.

You took over my life
faster than sunlight reaching my window.

Then you stuck to my heart like capillary,
you were glued to my mind like an emotion,
you were drilled into my skull like a titanium screw,
and somehow, you became as important to me as breathing itself.

Even though I tried to fight,
I knew that something this connected (as well as disconnected) to my life,
was never going to go away,
even if I died trying.

The "Sign"

Sometimes it is just so hard to keep up when you feel you saw it. You feel you saw that sign from that one person, when actually that one person is going in the opposite direction. You smile the whole day just to end up crying again. In the end, you go to sleep just the way you wake up: tired and groggy. The much anticipated moment is never as magical as you dream it to be, because change attacks it like a hawk attacking a mouse. Change occurs to everything. You try to change something for the better, and you get eaten by a hawk. That is  what happens almost every time you get the "sign."

Frozen

I am frozen in time.
The hands are moving,
every minute, every second.
Everything rushing by.

Everyone around me
seems to be able to move
along with time
like an old friend.

Me,
I've been stuck in that moment,
and the moment is slowly
sucking me in...

Now,
somewhere in time,
I am fading
slowly.

Still...

Sunlight.
The heat burning.
The warmth everywhere.
Still cold inside.

Peace.
Happiness flowing.
Laughter running free.
Still miserable within.

Adventure.
Excitement in the air.
Discovery all around.
Still asleep inside.

Time.
Moving rapidly.
Closer and closer.
Still frozen within.

Maddening

Why can't I figure it out?

This feeling

that contains

a million other feelings?

All I know is

that it is clouding my 

already clouded mind.

It is maddening.

Claustrophobia

is what I experience

when I try to understand

what the hell is going on.

I am so fucking blank

and at the same time

I have no idea about what is going on.

It is maddening.

Set Myself Free

I don't get it.
The change is uncomprehendible.
Yin and Yan
all in one.

Be more clear
with those hidden intentions,
because, not you,
but it is me confused.

In this hurried place
I stare above and wonder:
if you believe in your beliefs,
then why ruin me?

Sometimes,
just the moment
causes me to
set myself free.

No Space

Imagine yourself in a dark room.
The sunlight blocked out,
the wind pushed out,
no other form of life anywhere.

Small room,
growing smaller and smaller;
so small until
all it contains is you.

You can't think.
No space to think.
No space to feel.
No space.

You want to cry,
you want to smile;
but you can't
in a room with no space.

Suicide

So many memories
appear out of no where
urging me to speak my mind
to demand for the untold answers.
My mind and soul are on different sides
they yell and fight over my future.
My eyes look red with tears
the memories stabbing me with love.
Love which I saw so many times
which I embraced happily.
Love which now gives me pain
which now I hide away from fearfully.
Millions of obstacles crowd around me
whispering to me to pass them.
I want to lift my head high
and crush them all
but I'm broken, and can't seem to be fixed,
So, I decide to die.

Past

Was the time you spoke to me sweet words
an illusion in which all of that I heard?
Those radiant smiles,
were they sights I saw when I was day dreaming, staring at the bedroom tiles?

Were the memories of you accepting me as the one you loved
something you now take as a thought to lock away a something you vowed?
I'm not in dreamland, where I see you and you always.
You must consider my sadness,
which is like the clouds covering the rays of the sun.

Farewell

The words you whispered in my ear
when we sat together on Thursday evenings
are disappearing from my memory.

The picture of your constant smile,
which you always had on when I cried
is being torn and thrown away.

I thought and always said
that we'd always be there for each other,
so why is your support fading?

Maybe there is an inner voice
which suggests I move on
and not keep on thinking of the past.

But even though you're going away,
you left a part of you in me
so I'd never forget you.

THE KNOWN AND THE UNKNOWN

Should I turn my secret away, 
from the person who it is unknown to? 
What is unknown to the person 
is a mystery too hard to solve. 
Of course to me 
it's like an article in the daily newspaper. 
What if the person who itis unknown to 
finds out what is unknown? 
If it is me who tells the unknown 
 to the person who it is unknown to, 
then the unknown fact is now completely known. 
But if another tells the unknown 
to the person who it is unknown to, 
it won't be completely known, 
because the unknown fact is my secret, not of the another. 
Best if the known 
is unknown to those not needed.

Change

I have changed.
I keep changing,
but this change I cannot keep up with. 
I feel claustrophobic,
in this open space I feel chained, trapped,
I feel like I am suffocating,
I can feel the air freezing in my body;
the burning in my chest
is worse than a forest fire;
my limbs, unwilling,
move because I need them;
nothing yields to me any more,
my talents are slipping through my fingers like sand,
my priorities have fallen off the pedestal,
my state of mind hangs dangerously
between reality and imagination.

Imagination

I imagine,

that somewhere in a busy place,

I work for the bare necessities of life,

and knowing me,

I would dive myself crazy for the sake of others.

I imagine,

one day outta the blue,

I would come home in tears,

for some reason what so ever,

and I would sit on the cold, tiled floor,

and stare at the space in front of me.

I imagine,

you sitting there, a smile on your face,

a cigarette in between your fingers,

your eyes sad, with tears filling up in them,

and your free hand rested on mine.

I imagine,

your tears drying up,

and the cigarette being thrown away;

your voice sounding close to my ear,

your arms wrapped around my shoulders,

my tears falling to the floor.

I imagine,

you telling me that you will always be there for me,

telling me that my tears are worth a million,

telling me that there is no harm in crying,

telling me that however I am, you will never desert me.

Now, here I am,

where you are,

and I long for my imagination to become a reality,

I long for you to hold onto me,

and never let me go.

I am asking for this,

even though it may not be possible,

but there is this spark of hope in me,

that keeps me going…

You fill everything apart from reality,

so if I get some peace out of it,

what’s the harm in losing myself in my imagination?

My Johnny Depp

He smiles, laughing quietly.

I can't say anything about him,

he's a mystery to me.

but what I do,

is tell the world what this mystery means to me...

He's my Johnny Depp,

a person who I know I will never know,

yet a person I admire like hell,

think about all the time

wonder why he is the way he is...

I've never seen him surrounded by smoke,

like people say he usually is,

and I don't understand it at all,

but even if I yearn to change him for the better,

he is what he is, and I should not change something so authentic...

Unlike Johnny Depp,

he knows I exist,

and I feel like something real special,

when he snaps away from his world,

and looks deep into my eyes...

I don't understand,

why he looks at me like that,

with his scary, unique eyes,

and yet doesn't say a word,

not one fucking word...

I could be hallucinating,

I must be hallucinating,

but a guy like him, someone as special as him,

can make anybody feel like they are flying,

even if he isn't...

My Johnny Depp is right here,
everyday, around me.
He may not want to see me,
he may be in a lot of everything,
but he always manages to brighten my day...

Smoke

I see him,
sitting in the corner of the room;
his endless eyes open,
with dark shadows falling beneath them;
his paper-thin face smoothed out,
expressionless;
frail was his body,
hunched, bent, warped;
his legs were like branches
of a tree long dead;
and around them, his arms,
his hands digging into the flesh;
and he was still,
still, like he was dead.
All around him,
was ash, broken devices,
and pieces of wood,
wood that music once made
and instrument that named him.
And the smoke,
the smoke hovered around him like shadows,
and wedged between his skeleton fingers,
his lifeline, burning and glowing, 
sucking the life out him slowly.
His lips quivered, then trembled endlessly,
his eyes grew red, and tears appeared.
He cried,
softly at first.
Then a scream echoed through the room,
which seemed to go on forever.
He felt it,
the pain,
the loss,
the sorrow,
and he realised what he had become.

Lost

There he sits,
his eyes staring aimlessly into space,
his skinny body hunched forward,
a cigarette hanging on the edge of his, 
dry, parched lips. 
He has no idea, 
he remembers nothing, 
nothing about anything. 
Next to him, 
lies a broken guitar, 
the wood burnt and broken, 
the strings torn to pieces, 
the colour hardly visible. 
In front of him, 
is a blank canvas, 
and around the canvas, 
are colours in different sizes and of different types. 
He now trembles, 
and tears begin to fall. 
A painful cry escapes from within him, 
and he weeps, staring at his hands, 
which hold a paintbrush, 
and a guitar pick. 
He has no clue, 
he has no clue where he got lost, how he got lost, 
and as the cigarette grows smaller, 
he tries to remember the way back home, 
back to who he used to be, 
but he ends up staring ahead aimlessly into space, 
frozen in time, 
unable to realise that it is too late, 
it is way too late...

Your Dark Eyes

I see myself in the mirror,
and there I begin to realise how much I have changed,
how much more I smile,
how much different I look,
how much my eyes seem to dance,
how much good there is in me.
Then, somewhere hidden,
I see more of the change,
more anger there is to me,
the tears sliding down my face,
the sobs I can't seem to hear,
the pain I can't seem to feel.
Then I see you,
standing behind me,
watching me with those death-like eyes,
staring at me with a ghostly look,
that makes me feel cold,
and at the same time sends this massive electric shock across my body,
that makes me tremble with an emotion,
that I was never able to decipher;
and I long to turn around and cry on your shoulder,
but now I seem to know you much better,
yet I don't know you at all,
and, more than ever, I don't want to turn around,
to see that I was only imagining you.
You never seem to change, but you are not the same person I had met before,
and how much ever I run away,
those haunting eyes of yours,
they never leave me alone,
and now when I am staring into the mirror,
into your eyes,
and don't turn around,
I want to look away,
away from you,
but even after all of this,
I still find some peace,
some amount of refuge,
some solace,
in those eyes of yours...

Blink

Honestly,
sometimes I feel that somehow,
somewhere,
somebody might just pop out,
and will blink once, twice, thrice,
blink till I say "Hello?"
and there would still be no reply.
Blinking until one's eyes go red,
till blood tears out,
till I wipe the tears,
and demand to know what's wrong.
And the answer would be a stare,
and, like, forever,
that stare will never leave...
if the stare never fades,
nor will that person,
which means that it will be forever...

Shut

No one seems to understand,
no one seems to make everything better,
I cry but no one wipes my tears,
I shout but no one hears me,
I'm seething with pain but no one comes to my aid,
then I see that,

I'm shut in a box that has no way out,
no way in.
No one is there for me,
because I let no one be there for me...

The Stranger

I saw innocence.
Innocence deep in his dark eyes,
so don't tell me what to do.
I know I did right when I smiled at him,
when I grinned at myself when he grinned back,
I know I did right to wave at him,
at this person who I don't know.
Let me tell you something:
if people din't take the risk,
to  become acquainted with a stranger,
would there be a sense of friendship in every person?
No,
there would be nothing called "friendship."
I knew you, and every other person who said so was wrong,
call me a dictator, a control freak,
but I know you all were wrong.
"Who knows how old he is?
  Where he has been?
  How could you be so idiotic?" are the questions you will ask me,
and I will tell you to shut up,
because there is this instinct in every human being,
which tells them right from wrong.
How can I help it if you can't seem to find yours?
Well you will say that I am right, soon, when you meet this stranger.
He may be older than me,
may have been through dark times,
may have suffered,
and what not,
but that does not mean,
that he is not human,
because decent human beings,
know that when someone smiles at them,
they should smile back,
no matter what.

Deprived of Exposure

Why did I say it?

That's because I can't keep it within.

How did it happen?

Exposure,

exposure to something

I am too scared to behold.

Scared,

scared because I lose so much,

a dear one,

a bunch of friends,

and a lot more.

I want to deprive myself,

of the happiness,

of the warmth,

of everything beautiful

that Exposure gives me;

because I don't know what to do

about that one person

who knows me better than myself.

I can't hurt that person,

but Exposure keeps getting the better of me,

and then I remember,

That I have been deprived of everything beautiful,

and I give myself up

to happiness.